


Trav'ller in the Dark

by tisiph0ne



Category: Original Work, Third Reich - Fandom, World War II - Fandom
Genre: (sort of), Delusions, Freezing to death, Injury, Nazisploitation, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisiph0ne/pseuds/tisiph0ne
Summary: A panzer crew separated from their battalion in the dead of winter, huddled around their dwindling campfire.
Kudos: 7





	Trav'ller in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a small Christmas exchange over at [Dreamwidth](https://nazisploitation.dreamwidth.org/807.html).

The sky was pitch black, a dull nothing stretching out above them. Emil knew he should be thankful for the clouds – clear nights were even colder – but he missed the stars. He wanted to see their cruel twinkle just one more time.

He doubted they'd make it through the night. At least Otto wouldn't. He stopped screaming after the morphine had taken effect, but that had been all they could do for him. Rudi was with him now, holding his hand, telling him everything would be all right, over and over again, like a prayer. It wouldn't help though. Hope was futile in this case. Emil had seen similar wounds, and even with experienced medics present, or even doctors, none of the injured had made it. 

They all knew this and it wasn't good for morale, you could say. 

What an ugly way to go, dying slowly of a shot in the stomach on a godforsaken field so far from home. Emil wouldn't wish that upon his worst enemy. None of them would. It had not taken them long to include the wish for a clean death in their night time prayers. Too few of them were granted that mercy.

If it had been Emil's decision, he would have considered putting Otto out of his misery. It would have been the humane thing to do. But by the looks of it, their commander had other things on his mind. He sat on the other side of their small, dwindling fire, desperately trying to keep Paulchen warm. 

Paulchen was the youngest of their crew, a boy still, an outrage really to send lads like him to war. Emil had thought that the first time he'd laid eyes on him. He was too delicate for the climate, unsuited for the harsh Eastern winters, much less for war, and he always had been. A pretty little thing with wheat-blond hair and bright-blue eyes, their Untersturmführer had taken an instant liking to him. 

“He cares for him like a father,” they used to say whenever someone from a different tank crew had insinuated sinister motives.

Untersturmführer Werner König was a decent commander. He didn't deserve such slander.

Or at least that's what they had thought. Now Emil wasn't so sure anymore. 

It looked too natural how Paulchen sat between the commanders legs, curled up against his broad chest, romantic, almost, even if the boy's teeth were chattering and his eyes were wide with fear. The longer Emil watched them, the less doubt he had about the nature of their relationship. There was something rather telling about the way the commander touched little Paul, how he held him in a lover's embrace, his mouth close to his ear, whispering words of encouragement, or maybe endearments, his voice too low for anyone to overhear.

But even if they were lovers, even if they used to screw their brains out when they were unobserved – it was too late to worry about that now. From the looks of it, Paulchen wouldn't leave this damn field any more than Otto. The cold had taken hold of his scrawny body, spreading from his fingers and toes to the more vital parts. Before long his arms and legs would be frozen stiff.

Emil had seen enough frostbite over the last year to know how it looked, like porcelain at first, almost pretty, then the blackness of dying tissue. He had seen the shivering, the chatter of teeth, and the illusion of heat that was a side effect of freezing. Men had torn off their hats and scarves and gloves, offering their flesh to winter like a sacrifice.

So why not give poor Paulchen a little comfort in his last hours, Emil thought as he looked away. They all would face judgement for their actions soon enough, if not in this world, then in the next.

They'd done terrible things on their way east. Things a lot more vile than fucking boys or letting yourself be fucked by a superior. They had slaughtered civilians and torched houses with people inside, watched them burn with unconcealed glee. How ironic, they were going to freeze to death now.

The fire was already dying, the flames licking weakly at the logs. One of them would have to go deeper into the birch grove to get more wood, and there was no question who that one would be.

Laboriously, Emil scrambled to his feet. His limbs had grown heavy with cold and exhaustion, too. High time he moved around a little, lest he freeze just like the rest of them. 

Standing upright he could see it more clearly. This wasn't a time for sentimentalities. If they wanted to survive, the strong had to leave the weak behind. But he knew it would only be a waste of energy to suggest it. Rudi and the commander were blinded by friendship and love. They would stay until it was too late, and Emil couldn't change that.

“I'm gonna go look for more fire wood,” he said, stumbling off without even waiting for a response. 

His heart grew lighter once he had left the dying behind. It felt like a weight was being lifted. A thought crept up on him that he had forbidden himself for the last hours, ever since they had realized their battalion was gone: Perhaps he could make it to safety on his own. Not necessarily back to the front, but back east, towards home. 

It already seemed warmer between the trees, almost balmy. In the crisp cold air, there was a first whiff of spring. Emil took a deep breath as he made his way through the grove. He moved slowly, carefully, not to stumble over roots or run into a low hanging brunch, but after a while the darkness seem to grew lighter. The tree trunks grew more distinct, black silhouettes against a foggy grey.

Emil couldn't have said how much time had passed when he saw something he hadn't reckoned with. There was a little hut a few yards ahead, nestled between the birches. It stood on stilts that reminded Emil of something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Chicken feet, he thought as he came closer. How odd.

The hut exuded the strangest of smells, alluring and repelling at the same time. It made Emil's stomach churn with nausea and also an odd hunger. He longed for something like he had never longed for anything in his life.

As though drawn by an invisible string, Emil stepped up to the door and raised his hand to knock against it...


End file.
